CityStuck
by CyberPirateSpeedo
Summary: AU with slightly altered troll biology. A government run social experiment to see if the trolls can be "tamed" and live among humans. Taboos and tensions run high when humans interact within the condemned city of St. Davis. M for language and eventual sex (and to be safe)
1. Preview

They were a mess of bodies in the sheets, half clothed and breathing heavily, the calm gray of the walls around them were foggy in their haze. All he could think about were those lips, so delicately soft against his neck, his own fingers tracing the fine curves of her outline. She was a chubbier girl than most, but he loved it. It made her soft, more womanly. She was a mess, her usually tidy chestnut hair was strewn on the pillow behind her head, her eyes closed and fingers focused on his sides. She grazed his neck with those lips of hers, before biting down possessively. He jumped a bit, but brushed it off, leaning in to cover her cheek in kisses. He traced his tongue from her ear to her lips to pull her off him and lock their tongues together. She allowed this, but pushed herself up on her elbows to explore his body blindly with her tongue.

She could feel his blood rushing under his warm skin, smell it. It made him feel and smell sweet, faintly like cherries or strawberries. Thats the best description she could give, anyway. Her eyes searched for his, though the effort was nigh futile. Lines, colors, shapes, all blended together in a giant dark watercolor behind her irises. He sought out her eyes as well, huffing gently as her tongue explored his flesh, and gripped her scalp before giving her a furious kiss, pushing her into the mattress below. Fury was his best suit, and she reveled in it. The passion behind his emotions gave her goosebumps, because instead of seeing, she could feel them instead. As she gripped his cheeks to kiss him back, she let her emotions get the best of her, and bit his lip sharply.

He jolted and growled.

"Reshj. M'sherioush. Leh go oh' my lyip."

This, however, put her in a rather playful mood, and instead of obliging, she tugged on him, grinning up at him.

"hn-nn. Noph." And she bit down slightly harder, gripping his ribcage tightly with her fingers. He jolted harder, and yanked himself from her grasp.

"OW MOTHERFUCKING-" He rubbed his lip with his forearm, wildly confused. She had bitten hard enough to break the skin, and he was bleeding slightly. Now with her vision going dark, she laughed, hugging her sides. She snorted a bit as she did so, and her giggling got annoying to her lover who was nursing an injured lip.

"Oh Karkat, you big baby! Can't handle a bloody lip? I had no idea." She giggled again as Karkat leered at her.

"You fucking made me bleed, you lunatic."  
>"I knew that! I could taste it! Not as cherry-flavored as I had hoped."<br>"You're psychotic." and the girl pouted, arms across her chest.

"I don't like it when you call me names, Karkitty."

"I DON'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU FUCKING TREAT ME LIKE A CHEW TOY."

The girl pursed her lips at this thought, before sighing agitatedly, reaching down, and tugging up her shirt to flash him. He gawked, but only for a split second cause thats only as long as the peep show lasted. He seemed pacified for the most part, eyes wide and balance tipped over to the right just slightly. She had no idea the expression on his face so she just looked away and rolled on her stomach. She sighed gently. "Well. Now that -those- are old news...I was gonna make you wait until we actually got past first base, but I guess that was useless."

Karkat was overcome with lust and frustration and all the good, angry emotions in between that only Terezi could muster from him. He collapsed on her back, growling like a pissed off kitten as he sank his teeth into her neck and covered her in kisses. This took her quite by surprise, because she jumped and groaned at the attention, eyes closing and pushing her neck into the affection. She smiled gently, pushing her ass against his groin, making him grip the sheets, eyebrows furrowed.

"Not yet, Karkat." She whispered in a low, husky voice. He growled, face flushed as he kissed her skin with bleeding lips.

"Then remove your ass from its current vicinity and I will fucking oblige. _Cock tease._" She giggled and did so, rolling over onto her back to cradle his cheeks and kiss her bleeding boyfriend.


	2. Land of Concrete and Frost

_Everything's broken, Nothing is Sacred, and Life is Beautiful._

Thirty-four degrees and ice covered the sidewalk, making taking a simple stroll slightly more treacherous than usual. Already, the clouds gathered overhead as a large foreshadowing of the snow to come. The cold brick and pavement soaked in lecherous graffiti and dressed in frozen chain link fenced off the city from the outside world. All the plants had long since passed in the autumn months, and were simply waiting to re-awaken in the spring.

His breath froze before him and hung in the air like a damp, icy cloud, before being whisked away by a rolling breeze. He hugged his jacket tighter to his frame, with little avail. He had clutched in his right gloved hand, a thin plastic bag filled with cereal, oatmeal, soup, and a half-eaten gyro stuffed inside. He's young, possibly in his early twenties, with feathered black hair that shone odd colors of violet and lime in the sunlight. On an overcast day this wasn't noticeable, however. His eyes had a faraway look to them, the irises a deep violet blue color. His face was painted, a white and smokey gray mask that hid the deep inner workings of his mind. God only knows what that boy was thinking.

His house was a few blocks ahead, and he had no way of knowing if he was the only one awake or not. He wanted to continue his stroll, but the cold prevented him from desiring anything further to do with lollygagging. He hopped a few fences until he was in his own back yard, which was large with few obstacles or plants, save for a giant tree that was hundreds of years old and a detached garage. He contemplated walking up the handicapped ramp to the deck, but decided against it and shambled up over it instead and finally made it to his back door. He opened the screen, pressing his back against it, and opens the solid white door to allow himself in. Once inside, he heard some mumblings and frantic yelling down in the basement. Curious, he sets the bag down on the kitchen table nearby, pulls out the half-eaten gyro, and heads down the thinly carpeted stairs.

There was a slender, black haired boy in the laundry room, beside the main "living" space of the basement. In the laundry room was a hidden small half bathroom with a toilet, a sink, and a lightbulb that hung loosely from the ceiling. He was cussing in all colors of the rainbow at the wobbling, squealing washing machine in front of him. His foot launches and kicks the retaliating machine, hard enough to dent it. His brown eyes furrow in raw fury.

"These machines are BULLSHIT." He took both his hands and shook the machine brutally, desperately trying to get it to re-align and stop rocking off its hinges. "Stupid fucking motherfucking cock sucking goddamned chair-fucking worthless piece of SHIT." He hopped up finally, and just sat on the revolting machine. He crossed his arms, gruff and angry with seemingly everything. He was shorter than the first male, with a rounded, small nose, and semi-gentle facial features. His eyes were constantly in a rage, however, and seemed to glow under his mop of silky black hair.

The taller of the two chuckled darkly as he lumbered into the laundry room, scratching his messy hair as the irritated boy seemingly shat his pants at the sudden arrival of his friend. Once he figured out who it was, he seemed to calm down. Assessing the situation for all of thirty seconds, the painted male grinned. "Can't get it to motherfucking work, can you? Need any help?" The smart-ass on the washing machine groaned audibly.

"Oh? And what do you suggest? I paint my face to show how I've reached an inner nirvanna and wait for a fucking miracle? You have got to be the most useless excuse for breath and blood I have ever had the fucking misfortune of calling my roommate and acquaintance, Gamzee." The taller and more muscular man, apparently named Gamzee, cocked his eyebrow.

"You don't need me then?"

"Fuck off!"

"...did you call Sollux?"

"FUCK SOLLUX." His voice was now bouncing with the rebellious appliance under him. It was all Gamzee could do to not laugh. "Fucker is only good with computers and retarded, useless shit anyway. GOD ITS FUCKING FREEZING." he hugged his ribcage tightly, chattering his teeth. Gamzee now noticed the strict feel of the air in the basement, stinging his joints and bones softly yet sharply. He rubbed his arm, smirking at his little friend.

"You don't have the heater on down here?"

"No. Tavros had it on earlier when him and his stupid fucking nerd friends were down here playing...I dunno. Magic the Gathering? Some stupid nerd bullshit that doesn't amount to JACK in the real world. Has playing card games ever helped pay bills? Other than professional poker? I figured the heater would still be on when I got down here. BUT NOOO little FUCKER shut it off before I got here. Now I can't fucking leave to turn it up a little cause this fucking stupid washing machine won't stand still and resist leaving dents in the PAPER FUCKING THIN WALLS. The dryer? Left a fucking gaping HOLE over there." He points to the dryer beside him, and lo and behold, there was an open gaping hole in the 60's style wood paneling.

Gamzee whistled. "...did you try...re-adjusting the clothes in the washer? Might be motherfucking off balance."

"I'm washing my blanket." He leered up at him. "Its covered in cat piss."

"...we don't have a cat." Consider Gamzee's mind blown.  
>"I KNOW THAT, DINGUS." And he was nearly knocked off his perch from the bucking washer. He corrected himself on his high seat, and stared at the gyro in Gamzee's hand. "...the fuck did you get that from?" Gamzee stared at his hand, forgetting the gyro was even there, then perked, taking a huge bite out of the dripping mess. He made a content hum, before waving it over to his buddy. "Wan' bite?" The shorter boy wrinkled his nose in disgust, shaking his head. "After you've slobbered all over it? No thanks."<p>

Oh. That boy? The irritable one? His name is Karkat Vantas. That wasn't going to become obvious during any sort of conversation in the future. At all. Hes terrible about presenting himself. He wants you to figure it out, most occasions. Gamzee shrugged and took another bite, before walking over, punching the washer once, then heading back upstairs. "Its motherfucking cold down here, I'm gonna go find Tavbro."

Karkat blinked rapidly, and stared at the machine. It...was miraculously fixed. Karkat hopped off, and stared at it. It no longer rocked off its feet and stayed put where it was supposed to. He rubbed his tear ducts and sighed. "That motherfucking stupid dumbass and his goddamned ridiculously retarded miracles I will not hear the end of this for a while." That being said, he headed over to turn the light off to the laundry room, then headed to the stairs to turn off the light to the basement, and jogged back up them. His bones ached from the cold, and the impact from his feet hitting the poorly covered cement stairs caused a bit of a dull, sharp pain to shoot up his legs.

"WHY do I have to live in a goddamned frozen sewage dump? Why oh why oh fucking god what fucking sense does it make? 'Oh hey Karkat I was fixing to all up and get a little motherfucking place by myself, wanna be roomies?' 'Oh absolutely, Gamzee! That sounds swimming. Where is it?' 'SIBERIA.'" He grumbled to himself as he slammed the door to the basement behind him. He stared at the shopping bag his incoherent roommate left on the table, and immediately flocked to it out of pure curiosity. He shuffled through, and sighed, finding nothing interesting. Slowly, he absent mindedly started putting the food away, balling up the grocery bag and tossing it under the sink. When he stood straight, he found himself staring out of the tiny white window over the faucet, his body calmed by the sight of newly falling snow drifting in the half-frozen air. His teeth raked over his bottom lip, contemplating the scene.

Their kitchen was out of date with its fixtures, an odd yellow color, and the window was crowded by shambling cabinets. From the sides of those cabinets and crowding the window were plants. Long, whispy plants, plants with curled leaves and fronds, very few flowering plants, all green and perky with life. Tavros watered these plants each morning and every night, like they were pets he needed to feed. The counters were covered in cheap wood, and was horridly scratched. They didn't boast a lot of space, so they were constantly cluttered. The fridge was a dull yellow color, stained, and covered in magnets with photographs and sticky notes. On the other end of the room by the door to the basement and the door to the back deck, was a small kitchen table shoved in the corner. It was covered in papers, napkins, and receipts. The chairs didn't match in the least, and the light fixture was weakly attached to the ceiling and dangled over its surface.

Karkat had no idea where that idiot went. He could literally be -anywhere- by now. He didn't exactly have the energy to seek out his half-witted friend, so he simply leaned against the counter and stared out of the small, simply paned window as frost began to settle in the world outside.


	3. Best Bros

The last of the boys was in his room, sitting at his desk and surfing the internet on his grey laptop. His room was a deep green shade with white trimmed windows. The ceiling fan shook loosely as it chopped the air. The lightbulb in it was burned out, so the only source of light he had were from the three windows and the one desk light. His room was messy and covered in posters of Magic the Gathering, Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, and other action themed animes and fandoms. His bed was disheveled and covered in assorted blankets and pillows, shoved haphazardly in the corner under one of his three windows. In the opposite corner by his closet rested a pair of prosthetic legs, top of the line for their technology.

He was a boy of gentle features and sported a messy, chocolate colored mohawk that was growing so long it hung over his left eye. His eyes were the same expressive brown, and he dressed in a t-shirt and cargo shorts. He was seated in a wheelchair, seemingly permanently. Tavros had lost his legs a little past the knee, and had scarring up his thighs from past surgery. His eyes gazed at the flat screen before him, trained on the words and phrases. His mind was rapidly studying, fingers resting on the keyboard and left arm propped up to rest his cheek in his hand.

Gamzee leaned in the doorway, watching him thoughtfully for a minute, before grinning. He rapped on the doorframe twice, before heading in. The sudden noise made the wheelchair kid jump, and look over at Gamzee expectantly. He grinned widely, hands fiddling nervously with themselves as Gamzee entered.

"Knock knock, bro." Gamzee greeted simply. Tavros laughed softly.

"Hey, Gam. What are..you up to?" He tried to seem casual, even though he was slightly nervous by nature. Gamzee's presence seemed to calm him considerably, however. Gamzee had a lazy smile on as he flopped on the bed, seemingly being eaten alive by the massive amount of blankets and pillows. He simply nodded and hummed.

"Mmmm hmm."

"...you're up to Mm hm?"

"Yeah man."

This confused Tavros considerably, so he had to pry.

"What exactly does that...uhh...mean?" Gamzee laughed, shifting so he could lay on his side. Tavros didn't see anything funny, but laughed politely. Then Gamzee would stare at him with those dreamy eyes and Tavros would blush and turn red like a fucking schoolgirl and he hated it when Gamzee did that to him. But he secretly liked it too. He didn't like hating it, that's for sure. Tavros looked to Gamzee for answers and Gamzee had none, really. He just seemed to wiggle and writhe in the mass of blankets to get comfortable and show his contentedness.

"Your hair's getting long." Gamzee finally spoke. Tavros jumped a bit, and his fingers immediately went to the chocolatey brown strands.

"Oh? Uhh...does it..look stupid or something? I was gonna...uh...get Kanaya to fix it."

"I think it looks nice." Gamzee smirked, fluffing a pillow to prop himself. "...come to think of it, you always look motherfuckin nice, Tavbro." Tavros was red again and he laughed.

"Yeah? You really think so?" and it was that smile that Tavros gave to him on a regular basis that melted his heart. The smile that said he trusted Gamzee enough to be at least a little confident. He realized he was drifting off, as Tavros was getting that nervous, I-feel-stupid look in his eyes, and he nodded in response.

"Of course, man. Would I up and lie to you about that shit?" that easygoing smile returned to the legless boy as he gave a slight nod.

"Thanks Gamzee." His fingers fumbled with the mohawk, which was technically a lazyhawk since it was hardly ever styled to stand up, making a contemplative face. "Still wouldn't hurt to ask Kanaya for some advice." Gamzee tilted a bit, eyebrow cocked as if curious.

"Weren't they supposed to come over tomorrow or something? Her and...Terezi and..." Tavros nodded quickly.

"Terezi, Kanaya...uhh...we invited Feferi but we don't know if shes...uhh...coming over or not." Gamzee rolled on his back, hands behind his head as his eyes closed.

"Shes so motherfuckin busy." Tavros nodded, giving brief attention to his laptop, typing softly.

"She is...shes uhh...super nice though. Terezi is scary." Gamzee laughed. Tavros retorted, embarrassed. "What? She is...shes really...uhh...I dunno. Worked up? And...loud." Gamzee continued to laugh, covering his mouth as he watched Tavros fumble, and Tavros would fail miserably at trying to regain any sort of composure whatsoever.


	4. Burning Blue

The air smelled like cigarettes.

Cigarettes had an odd flavored air, and the way the gray smoke weaved in and out could be fun to watch. But smoking? Forget it. He'd never smoke those things in a million years, even if it was to be ironic. How could you even be ironic about that? These things always trifled the mind of young Dave Strider.

Talking about Dave typically brought up a whole wide range of emotions. Hate him or love him, people could obsess over him either way. He was a dashing debonair young man, but debonair as in the sense that anyone could see Dave Strider was -suave-. He looked like he belonged in a tux, looked at home in fancy settings. His hair was frosted gold that stood out sharply against the dark, round shades that sat on his nose that curved slightly skyward. His body was slender and pale-skinned, and he showed no emotions on his mask of a face.

Regardless of how good he looked in fancy surroundings, at the moment he was crammed with his brother in his tiny white Del Sol, inhaling smooth cigarette fumes while his brother's eyes searched behind dark glass for their destination. The air conditioner was on full blast, yet it wasn't very successful in its mission. The heavens melted under the sun, turning the sky a constant shade of red. The eyes of a Strider family member matched the intensity of the atmosphere, molten and saturated with heat and ferocity. Arguably, this is why they took to sunglasses so easily, to shield the world from their fierce inner selves.

Nobody knew the elder Strider brother's name. He simply went as "Bro". He took his brother's looks and gave a knife-like edge to them. His shades were pointed, and he hid his platinum blonde locks under a baseball cap, his clothes were always clean and he always looked keen. The cigarette he was smoking rested between two gloved fingers, and a calm smirk rested on his face. Dave was focusing on the phone in his hand, which perked the older Strider's interest.

"Talking to Egbert." Bro asked, but didn't really ask. It was a statement that was aimed to be a question, but Bro didn't have time to put the upward inflection at the end of it. He had shit to do. Like, drive. Dave didn't even stir.

"Yeah. John's going on about something that I totally didn't even ask him about." He looked slightly confused, but not too much. "He may be my best friend but sometimes I swear to god." Bro seemed mildly amused. Or. That is. He would. If anyone could tell what he was thinking behind that icy stare. Dave arched a brow ever so slightly. "Hes talking about something he saw on TV. I totally didn't even ask him."

"The fuck." Bro stated, driving so fast he never hit a red light. Dave flipped his phone shut, then rested his arm against the interior of the car door. "Whats Dad doin'." The older inquired, but kind of didn't.

"Watching TV with him I guess."

"They know we're comin'."

"Yeah."

"Hold your tits I might not make this green light."

Metal meets carpet as bro Strider launches himself forward, the light shifting from yellow to red at the absolute last moment after he had already passed. Dave didn't grip anything, and just let the car vault him backwards into his seat. Going hyper-drive fast is only cool when you didn't think anything about it.

_ Our top story tonight, utter chaos ensues after a car-bombing in St. Davis. Local authorities are unsure who started the assault, but are still investigating. The stigma behind St. Davis as a city itself is now being questioned: Should the government stop this experiment? Is St. Davis the most ethical way to continue testing? Can the residents of St. Davis be controlled? Tonight we interview the brightest minds behind the St. Davis program, including Mr. Davis himself. But first coming up, why is this cat on top of this cactus? Residents outside of Douglas, Arizona claim they found-_

The air smelled like home cooking, and pipe smoke.

All the walls were white in the moderately-sized two story home, signifying a lack of time to paint them. They were, however, decorated to the teeth in clowns and marionettes. On the fifty-two inch HD Television danced the images of fire, chaos. People rioted in the streets, only to be stopped by force, and the force included eighty pound german shepherds and belgian sheepdogs. The LED lights light up powerfully for the imagery of an overturned car, now charred and rusted.

These images painted a strong image upon the mind of Mr. Egbert, simply called "dad" as a term of both endearment and respect. He sat comfortably on his couch, watching, stroking his clean-shaven face in thought. Dad was a well respected man, and as such, had to keep up with daily events so that he may maintain a well-groomed opinion. His face was dignified, with a large and somehow graceful nose that tended to set him apart from other dads. He wore nice suits seated with clean dress shoes, and his black hair rested against his head under a fedora.

His son, a nearly-unfortunate looking young boy, but still strangely handsome nonetheless, was in the kitchen overlooking the spaghetti that bubbled in a pot on the stove. His hair was slick black, just like his father, except sprang from his skull in a lively manner instead of being simply tamed. His nose was less noticeable thanks to his glasses and slightly buck teeth. He padded out into the living room to watch the TV, curiosity grasping the frames of his imagination, and he couldn't help but wonder. He scratched his head softly, before speaking.

"Wow. Whats going on over there?"

"Oh, just a bit of necessary chaos."

"Necessary?"

"Quite necessary, actually." Mr. Egbert took his pipe from his lips and inspected it slightly. "Without chaos like this, there can exist no good. Without good, there is only evil, and so on and so forth." his son smiled.

"Oh, right. Yeah I didn't necessarily think of it like that." He headed back to the kitchen, checking his phone. Yeah no, he didn't actually think of -anything- related to things like that. It never occurred to him. His father was so smart that it made him dizzy sometimes. "Don't you work in St. Davis, dad?"

"That I do, John."

"Don't you ever get...scared? Y'know, that, bad stuff might happen to you while you're there? I heard its a dangerous city to get lost in." John's father paused, as if considering it.

"...I don't really fear things like that. Especially since I work in a well-guarded facility with men who are more than qualified to fight if the need should arise. Not only this, but things happen for a reason, John. All things do. If I get hurt, I was meant to get hurt."

John smirked as he listened to his father prattle on, even about morbid things like harm coming to himself. He hardly even paid attention, his eyes glued to his phone screen. He closed it, then headed to finish fixing spaghetti into four individual plates that were as stark white and clean as the rest of the house. He set the table, watching the TV as he did so, and sat.

"Dave said hes headed over in a little bit. Hes got bro with him."

"Did he now?" The gentleman stood, dusted himself off slightly and followed his son to the dinner table. "Did they mention what time they'd be over?"

"Knowing bro, they should be over here in like thirty seconds." They both chuckled gently as dad took his seat. Days like these were picturesque, perfect, bright. Hopefully nothing could drag that away from their realm. Not the violence of other realities, or even their own realities, if those even existed.

Through idle chit chat came the knocking of the front door, the guests had arrived. John perked, and easily slid away from the dining table to answer the door, and sure enough, the Striders stood before him, eyes shielded by black glass and expressions like ice. Dave uttered one word while his older brother simply smirked to see Dad sitting at the table behind John. The naïve (or simply just happy to see them) boy invited them inside with haste and a slight hop in his step, and they followed like slick criminals where soft family company awaited them offering food.

Though friends, these two families clashed on so many levels. And though the red eyes of Strider would forever burn a hole into several dimensions of time and space, they would forever have the calm, neutral blues of their dearest friends to back them up, even them out. It would always be this way, like a rule of science.

Always.


	5. A Day in the Life

The snow outside was blinding. The birth of the sun over the earth's surface made that all too apparent, and how one managed to sleep in past noon was a mystery.

Karkat's eyes slowly opened, and fixed themselves to the wall. He grumbled as he felt the heat of a second body behind him. That second person could be anyone, everyone and their dog loved to curl up and cuddle with unconscious Karkat for some godforsaken reason. Sometimes Gamzee when he came home drunk, sometimes Tavros when Gamzee wasn't home, and sometimes Eridan who managed to get kicked out by his roommate Sollux. By the looks of the reflecting horizontal slants of light casting over his room, it was probably Terezi. Whenever she snuck in, she typically opened the blinds so she could feel the morning instead of see it.

He flipped over, and the pupils of his eyes tried to focus in front of him. There he would find silhouetted against the sun, the soft and womanly form of his lover. Of course this would typically take his breath away and he'd never admit it, but this morning was different. Instead of curled up in a little ball and facing him as if she were desperate for warmth, she was sprawled out on her stomach ungracefully and facing away from him, snoring loudly through her mouth.

He stared at her for a minute, eyebrows furrowed. _Thats just fucking great. One chance to sleep the fuck in and its ruined because fucking someone had to go and open the goddamned blinds and shes not even fucking awake and god fucking DAMMIT I can't even see her face and I want to kiss her._

Another thing he'd never admit face to face with her.

He lay there for a bit, tracing her outline with his eyes gently, ducking down so her body hid his pupils from the bright light. She was dressed thinly in a white tank top and silk boxer shorts. She looked stunning, no matter what she wore, and it stressed him the hell out. There was nothing in this world that didn't stress him out, but nothing more than the fact that his girlfriend looked like a doll no matter what and that he always looked like a fucking dickhole. He sat up slowly, padding over to a spot on the floor in his boxers to retrieve some pajama pants. The shift in weight caused the girl to stir, making a slight grunt and unhappy noise. She flopped on her back, blinking her eyelids and staring at the ceiling, before pushing up to sit. Karkat looked over.

"Sleep well, _princess_?" he sneered a bit, sliding his legs into his pants one at a time. Terezi jolted and stared in his general direction, wiping her lip off with her wrist.

"I think I slept with my mouth open." He stared at her, trying to take her seriously.

"What on earth gave you that idea?" and she shrugged.

"I got cotton mouth and it taste AWFUL. Like...three day old mac and mayo salad."

5 "...this statement has alerted me to the fact that you may or may not have tried to eat mac and mayo salad before this point in time. Terezi. What the actual fuck." She grinned at him and giggled, in that almost shrill, highly annoying fashion.

"Kanaya and I made it." She burped gently, sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose. "EW GROSS WHAT THE FUCK."

"STOP FUCKING YELLING YOU'RE GONNA WAKE UP THE ROOMMATES." This caused her to fluster a bit, and she made a mad scramble toward him to tackle him to the ground.

"KARKAT."

He flailed as he went down, giving a surprised shout before he clung to her and hit the carpet.

"TEREZI MOTHERFUCKING PYROPE I SWEAR TO GOD." and she burst into peals of laughter and giggles, hugging his waist as she did so. Karkat just lay there, biting his lip and leering at the ceiling. Someone up there was conspiring against him. Otherwise they wouldn't have given him that shit-tastic best friend named Gamzee and they sure as shit wouldn't have given him this blind crazy menace of a girlfriend either.

As hes wondering what he could have done to warrant such horrible retribution for an unknown sin, he felt her lips on his, and the soft breath from her nostrils wafting over him. He couldn't say he wasn't happy for it, because he was. He closed his eyes and rested his palm against her cheek, allowing her to completely own his attention. She smiled through their kiss and he...almost did.

Gamzee was half-way leaned over the sink, filling a glass with hot water. The pipes had frozen overnight, which to Gamzee was no big deal. Its just the fact that he needed something to drink to take his morning pills with. Why he didn't take soda was because they couldn't afford to just drink soda whenever the mood struck them. He was dressed in greasy, grimy work clothes that consisted of a blue jumper, boots, and yellow-tinted work glasses. His face was unpainted, and it left him feeling sort of vulnerable.

After rinsing out the glass a few times, he finally filled it up like a shot of vodka, set the glass down and searched some drawers for his pills. He pondered, staring at the plastic container labeled 'S M T W T F S' He scratched his scalp a bit, trying to remember what day it was. Everything was so foggy to him, the days seemed to run together and he could hardly even remember why he needed these pills anyway. His thoughts clouded his mind like the fog outside, drifting lazily from the sky. He didn't even hear the soft padding behind him of gentle, inhuman feet.

"Today's Sunday." a soft voice broke the silence. Gamzee's eyes shot wide, before recognizing the voice, and smiled at the young one behind him.

"Thanks Tav. Sometimes the motherfucking noodle don't wanna work this early in the morning. Appreciate it, bro." He then popped the container under the first 'S' open, and took the pills out. Tavros smiled warmly, ducking down gently. He was dressed in a long white shirt, black boxers, and was leaning against the door frame. Strapped to his legs were his clumsy prosthetics, and his hair was tied back from his soft eyes in a flowy, wild ponytail.

He gave a laugh to his friend, and padded further into the kitchen, slowly and awkwardly. He leaned against the counter as he watched his best friend toss back the pills, and his eyes were full of questions. Like, what were the pills for? He couldn't imagine Gamzee having that many problems, he was always so calm and mellow, and constantly a good friend. He tilted his head, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, the freckles splattered on his face illuminated by the early morning light.

Gamzee exhaled after taking a swig of hot water and after the pills had made their way into his system. He shook his head, and scratched the bridge of his nose, sighing gently. He looked to Tav and smirked.

"What are you plannin' on doing today, my motherfuckin' bro?" Tav blinked as the question was directed at him. He messed with his ponytail, pushing back up onto the prosthetics.

"Uh..well...Kanaya was gonna help me with my hair, and I guess we were gonna go job hunting. She said she saw a few uhh...hiring signs downtown." Gamzee smirked.

"Gonna be up and motherfuckin' productive today. Give 'em hell for the both of us, Tav. I know you can motherfuckin' get what you need." and then Tavros gave his award-winning smile as he fumbled with his semi-curly locks of chocolate hair.

"You...really think so Gamz?"

"Motherfucker I don't just think so." He grinned, and laughed gently, reaching over to rustle his hair, mussing his ponytail up slightly. Tavros allowed this, and even leaned into the touch, his eyes closing happily. "You're gonna do fine, bro."

Tavros gazed up at him and smiled, and Gamzee returned the expression. He then shook it off, finding himself flustered.

"Oh! Uh...so...uhm...is it ok if Kanaya does come over then?"

"...come on Tav."

"I'm just, uh, I mean, I kind of, she, y'know. I, didn't want to, how...late are you working today?"

Gamzee didn't answer, instead he just stood there smiling and scratching his chin.

"Cause, uh, its just the, um, she doesn't, I don't, I..shes..." he failed to find words and Gamzee grinned widely. Cutting through the flimsy attempt at conversation was Karkat's ever-so-sunshine voice, and the eerie and hollow giggling of Terezi. Gamzee looked up, eyebrow arched, and Tavros looked behind himself. "...I guess...Terezi's here." He made an uneasy grin, and attempted to pad out into the living room. Something about his walking made Gamzee feel the need to fix it. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"TEREZI PYROPE IF YOU DON'T PUT ON A FUCKING BRA RIGHT THIS INSTANT I'M GOING TO END YOUR EXISTANCE." and she burst into giggles, trotting past the kitchen, jiggling in all her glory. She stopped, and peered into the kitchen, her chocolate-milk colored eyes searching for the form she had seen. Gamzee remained where he stood, and flashed a smirk to Terezi, but didn't speak. She grinned as she definitely smelled the grease of Gamzee's work uniform, and headed over to him, hands reaching out for him.

"Gamzee you don't care that I'm not wearing a bra, right? These are my pajamas! I can't sleep in a bra." Sure enough, she was dressed shortly, no bra in sight. She grinned up at him, arms crossing over her chest. "Karkat's just being ridiculous." and as soon as that sentence was uttered, Karkat burst into the scene, panting and seemingly fuming. His whole being went rigid when he saw Gamzee standing there.

"GAMZEE? What the flying fuck are you even still doing here? Don't you go in to work at like five in the morning on Sundays?"

"Don't change the subject, Vantas." Terezi cut him short, her grin reappearing. "Though you do get so unbearably adorable when you're pissy." Her eyes were trained on the taller man, arms over her chest and resting most of her weight on one hip. Karkat growled a bit, hand gripping the doorframe furiously. "But I want to hear what Gamzee has to say about this."

"Gamzee isn't the fucking one I'm worried about, Pyrope." he grit his teeth. "Its the little guy." Gamzee blinked, realizing he was still focused on the idea that she was wearing pajamas...and not sleeping. Baffled, he shrugged, sipping the hot water again, forgetting the temperature of the liquid. He jolted, making a "bluh" noise, before dumping it.

"Whatever makes you most up and motherfucking comfortable and shit, Rez." He replied with a grin, before grabbing his phone and keys. Terezi hopped around happily, and headed back to the living room. She held up both her middle fingers as she did so.

"Hee hee! Fuck y'alls couch I'm letting the girls free!" She chanted this line over and over again as Karkat stood in the doorway and stared at his best friend. His best moron. The fucking moron who just said it was ok for his girlfriend to run around indecent in a house full of boys. The guy who someday, he was pretty sure, he was gonna kill for some reason or another. Gamzee was fixing to leave, until Karkat spoke up.

"You're five hours late, you're not wearing your face paint, you are letting Terezi run around with her lovelies barely concealed by a tank top, and I'm pretty sure you just woke up like an hour ago. What the fuck is your fucking deal you fucking shitsponge." Gamzee grinned and laughed a bit. He held up his fingers, counting his responses.

"Terezi gets to wear what she wants cause shes my motherfucking bro, my boss is probably gonna yell and some shit at me so why paint my face, and by hurrying to work -now- is not going to make me get there any faster, nor is it gonna make me any less motherfucking late." He smirked, and headed to the back door. "I'll see you guys later." As he opened the door, Karkat shouted

"DON'T GET FUCKING FIRED."

And when the door closed behind him, Karkat allowed himself to just...fizzle. These dumb-ass motherfucking douchebags. Hopefully Equius would be generous and let Gamzee keep his miserable job. He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb, sighing gently, before making his way to the living room. There on the ugly plaid couch was Tavros, trying to fix the prosthetics. He felt his eyes leering at the metal and the ugly-ass stump it was attempting to be attached to. Tavros didn't see him staring cause he was trying to fix it, and was watching Terezi prance at the same time. He laughed at the silly girl, blush returning to fog over the soft freckles on his face. When he realized Karkat staring at him he froze.

"...uhh...everything...ok...Karkat?" Karkat's eyebrow arched.

"Stop staring at my girlfriend unless you wanna start some shit. What is wrong with your leg?"

Tavros felt immediately stupid. Of course they would notice something wrong with his leg, why wouldn't they? The only person who didn't seem to notice was the one prancing around and chanting like a moron. He scratched the back of his neck, and shifted in the couch.

"...I...uhh...think...its on wrong...they are, I mean...the legs, that is, I think the legs are on wrong...I tried to do it myself, but, they're hard to put on, by myself, and...its stupid, isn't it?" Karkat simply leered at the legs, like he was chewing the idea in his mouth.

"...need me to help you?" And Tavros's eyes were upon his again, as if a little surprised.

"...uhh...s-sure...I was gonna see if, y'know, Kanaya would help, but if you wanted to, that, would be cool too, I guess..." Karkat rolled his eyes as he found himself moving to Tavros's side, inspecting the hardware, and found the flaw. His fingers went to work, and Tavros watched intently, if not still awkwardly. He noticed what he had always noticed when he interacted with Karkat, the full-sleeve tattoos on both arms that hid the slight muscle tone underneath. They wound around his arms, tangling images of demons with thorn crowns, a blindfolded woman with scales and a hammer, jumbled words and phrases, and so on. All of it was symbolic somehow, it was just so complex it completely flew over Tavros's head. He had always dreamed of asking him what they meant, but never went through with it.

"That innocent farm-boy routine isn't gonna get you far with me." Tavros jolted at the sound of his voice, and became instantly curious. "Though it really seems to work wonders on that doped-up moron." Tavros's curiosity piqued and his feelings felt a little...hurt. He was still wondering, though. Worked wonders on Gamzee? Terezi caught wind of this rough conversation, and stopped by to bop Karkat on the head.

"Be nice, dicksqueeze!" Karkat fumed.

"DICKSQUEEZE? WHO ARE YOU? ME? YOU KNOW ONLY I SAY RETARDED SHIT LIKE THAT."

"So you admit your anger is one-sided and retarded? Oh Karkat, you've come such a long way." She seemed proud of his "achievements". He stopped to think about that, as Tavros wished he could just melt into the couch. This. Was. Awkward.

More yelling and stupid nicknames were thrown around as Tavros prayed for Kanaya's speedy arrival so he could just disappear somewhere with her and ponder the meaning of Karkat's raving. Though this life was full of constant chaos, it was good to him and everyone else around. It was just clouded and foggy to try and see how sometimes.

On the other side of town, with eyes hazed over behind yellow safety glasses, Gamzee prepared to face his boss. Regardless of how scary he could be, for some reason, he had never feared Equius like everyone else seemed to. This could go either way, with all honesty intended.


	6. Losing Hope

There was a gun holstered on the wall.

Below that gun sat a sleek, metal desk, with a giant leather chair behind it and papers strewn across its glass surface. Various papers, slips, forms, and writing utensils cluttered the otherwise clean surface. Odd, however, that the desk did not house any photographs or items of sentiment. Not even a name plate. Surrounding the desk were file cabinets, with more folders and files sitting atop them. There was a dusted and seemingly trustworthy hardhat settled beside a pile of paperwork, plus a pair of spare glasses and a recently used coffee mug that read "Life's a Beach". The office was also home to an expensive aquarium, which itself housed a plethora of playful tropical fish. Two leather chairs sat opposite of the desk.

Gamzee sat in one of those chairs.

…

He had been sitting there for what felt like hours, in his grimy blue work jumper and hazy yellow work goggles. He fiddled with his hands, resisting the urge to play with his phone in his newfound spare time. He was in deep shit, and there was nary a way around it. He bore the look of a guilted puppy, aware of the consequences for his recent misbehavings, but also the curiosity of what was to come.

He took a moment to really look at the gun. It seemed a bit more interesting than the fish, which was odd, seeing how anything silly caught his attention.

It was a striking blue color, with a darker blue scope, and the tip of the gun ended in a sharp, almost spear-looking apparatus. The overall look of the weapon was clean, with sharp lines towards the top of the weapon and a slightly curved bottom behind the trigger. It wasn't a regular gun you would find your run of the mill hunter toting, that was for sure. It looked like whoever this belonged to had spent a lot of money on it, and a lot of time dedicated to its upkeep.

The door finally opened, setting an end to Gamzee's thoughts, and a startled jump to his body. He swiftly craned his neck around to catch a glimpse of who would be doling out his punishment. He offered a friendly greeting, almost apologetically.

"Woah. Haha totally caught me off guard, bro."

"Do –not- start with me today, Makara. I have had enough a these fuckin imbecile employees today, an today is not lookin good for you."

The man who entered was tall, with sharp features, a thin body, and a slight English lilt to his voice. He shut the door quickly behind him, fussing with his chocolate brown primped strands, and forcing his glasses back up his nose unceremoniously. He headed over to the desk, folder in hand, and plopped down on the chair. He wrapped his thin fingers around a nearby pen and clicked it agitatedly, giving Gamzee a pointed look, before he pried the folder open and skimmed through its contents.

Gamzee sank in his chair slightly, looking off to the side. Through the tense silence he wondered aloud

"So…Equius is sick again?"

"What?" The brunette snapped, looking up impatiently from his paperwork. You could practically hear the man grinding his teeth behind his lips. Gamzee cleared up a bit before inquiring again.

"Just wonderin' if Equius got sick again. Guy must have a really poor motherfuckin' immune system, always goin' down with a doozy of a flu or some shit. Hes usually the one doing the disciplining shit."

The man at the desk stared at Gamzee's face while he spoke, pondering. "Yeah. I guess he kinda is. He came in to work this mornin and had to leave early because of his stomach. He fainted again." He shook his head as he licked his thumb, flipping through more pages. "I told him he should a reconsidered drinkin all that milk. I think the guy is lactose intolerant or somefin."

Gamzee chuckled and nodded. "Yeaaah. That would be pretty motherfuckin' ironic."

Eridan pursed his lips and considered the thought. "Would, woudn't it? For a guy who is so strong on the outside his insides are kinna weak." He didn't seem phased by the idle chit chat about their mutual friend and mutual boss. On the inside he was actually quite entertained and pleased by the gesture. Outside of work his social life was as dead as the nature that surrounded their city. There were very few people who would talk to him face to face, rather than put a computer screen between them. Then again Gamzee was always pretty chill to begin with, so you had to be some sort of idiot to not understand how to talk to him.

Formalities aside.

He slapped the paper he needed down on the desk, and rubbed his temples in dismay. He sighed slowly and rested his cheek in his hand, staring at Gamzee.

"….you know why you're here."

"…I kinda figured."

"Wondering why we should keep ya, Gam."

Gamzee gave it a grim thought, before looking up to Eridan.

"Because…I'm all like…up and –about- this job, y'know. Its like, the best motherfuckin' job ever. We make cars, and we get a lot of hours, and a lot of benefits, and I am more than pleased as motherfuckin' punch to keep working here."

Eridan rubbed his tear ducts lazily. He contemplated everything the other employee had told him. Sure Gamzee was a pretty decent worker, who unlike the others did not look for any opportunity whatsoever to try and sue the company and never work again. He looked to the papers and shook his head. They told of Gamzee's shortcomings as an employee. Sleeping on the job, coming to work under the influence, generally slacking off so others would have to pick up his work, and of course, being four hours late on Sundays.

"…even so. Equius sent me to fire you." He looked up at the other male's eyes, and saw the fear and sudden pain that plagued those capricious violet hues. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest and straightened sternly. "Sorry Gamzee. Maybe some other time we will have a spot for you again, but these papers here tell me that time is not now. Now go an get your stuff, you're out. We'll send your final paycheck to your house."

"….ok." Gamzee nodded solemnly and stood slowly. He made his way to the door, giving the aquarium a final glance, before Eridan caught him short.

"Hey, uh, Gam."

Gamzee looked over his shoulder expectantly at his former supervisor.

"….you guys uh… doin anyfin later tonight?"


	7. Mirror

"Norwegian Vikings."  
>"Are you fucking kidding me we are not playing this game again."<br>"But I love the vikings game!"  
>"THIS GAME NEVER ENDS. WE ARE NOT GONNA PLAY IT AGAIN."<br>"This game never ends for you because you don't follow the quests! Jesus Christ since when did you become such a stickler-dick against Skyrim?"  
>"The minute you could chose to be a cat person."<br>"...that was within the first five minutes."  
>"YOU ASKED WHEN. I SIMPLY ANSWERED."<br>"OBJECTION."  
>"OVER-RULED. On account of no one gives a shit. I'd rather play that Ace Attorney bullshit than this donkey dick game any day."<br>"Then why did you break my copy?!"  
>"I SAT ON IT. WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS."<br>"AUGH FORGET IT."  
>"Do we still have L.A. Noire?"<br>"YES. BUT WE'RE PLAYING VIKINGS. DRAGONKIN. YOU ARE IT."  
>"Three discs of nineteen forties murder and jargon. And you never did any of the murdering. That game was bullshit too. All it was is basically 'OH LOOK HOW GOOD MY FACE LOOKS. ITS SO REAL ITS ALMOST UNREAL. THIS GAME COST SIXTY DOLLARS. DO YOU FEEL GOOD ABOUT THAT? MEEEEEH.'"<br>"There is literally no pleasing you."  
>"ANYTHING BUT THIS FUCKING GAME WOULD PLEASE ME."<br>"FUS. RO DAH."  
>And Terezi shoved Karkat's face backwards.<p>

Tavros sat and quietly observed the scene going on around him, patiently waiting for his friend Kanaya to arrive. The quicker the better, obviously, Karkat and Terezi and video games is just not a smart thing to be around. Especially not when Skyrim was the topic. Karkat was off shouting again as Terezi continued to play her silly little sixty-dollar game and cackling. He would smile every so often. Their bickering was kinda funny.  
>Tavros stood, shifting his weight evenly, before fussing with his hair and going upstairs to his room. He stared into it kind of contemplating whether cleaning it would be a good idea or not. Probably. But Kanaya never judged. Well, at least not out loud. He padded into the room, sounds of Karkat and Terezi's squabbling reverberating off the walls. He could never tell if they were serious or playing, and sometimes that worried him. But he figured if they legitimately hated each other, they wouldn't stick together.<br>Deciding that no, he wasn't gonna clean his room, he flopped onto his bed and burrowed himself in his blankets, staring out the window for Kanaya's car. From his window he could see Karkat's motorcycle sitting in the sun, the topline of the bike dusted with ice. He could also see the young tree that was planted in the middle of the front yard, which had no fence. He rested his cheek in his hand, watching random cars drive down the street, each of them being bothered by the piling snow.

I should probably shovel snow. He thought to himself. He tilted his head. Or get dressed. He smiled to himself.  
>Double negative on that, ghost rider.<br>He then laughed to himself.

What even is ghost rider.

* * *

><p>"Can't we play some other game."<br>"Why not? This game is the shit!"  
>"Whoever told you that actually meant to say this game is balls."<br>"Aww come on, you can't be serious."  
>"Like a heart attack. How do you still even have this game its like balls old."<br>"Dude, no. Just no. This game is not that old."  
>"Are you kidding me? This shit came out in like nineteen eighty FOREVER ago. That means its time to put that shit back and play something cool."<br>"Oh. Ok. Uh-huh. And what would your suggestion be?"  
>"Tomb Raider."<br>"What!"  
>"Ok so its better than this fuckin shit. Don't give me that look, Mr. Mike Tyson's punch-out fanatic."<br>"Tomb Raider is so lame!"  
>"Ok so if Lara Croft tried to sell me a collection of worthless Encyclopedia Britanica's I would absolutely have to own that shit. Mike Tyson?"<br>"Mike Tyson is a hero, you lameass."  
>"Isn't he the same dude who bit off someone's ear?"<br>"Not the point!"  
>"That is exactly the point. Difference between Lara Croft and Mike Tyson right there is I would want Lara Croft to bite off my ear."<br>"You are fucking gross."  
>"I have a copy of Tomb Raider in my hoodie let me go get it."<br>"Are you serious right now."

John rested his head in his hand as he sat indian style on the floor of his room. His eyes were hooded with disbelief at his house guest. Dave had shoved to his feet and was now over by John's bed, rooting around in his hoodie pockets for his alleged copy of Tomb Raider. He couldn't believe this was happening in his own house. Not this shit again. Every time they played video games together it was like two little kids slap fighting.  
>Dave plopped back down and pushed the SNES aside, pulled the playstation down and turned it on. When the title page flashed on the screen, Dave posed, biting his lower lip.<p>

"Thats how we do it, son."  
>"This game is already mega stupid."<br>"Denial is the first step."

After spending an afternoon waffling and flip flopping through video games, most of them fighting games like Soul Calibur and Street Fighter, the boys decided to step out onto the balcony that lead off of John's room. Dave stared off into the distance while John sat on a patio chair. Dave leaned against the railing, staring at the horizon line of St. Davis in the distance. The sky turned from red to blue-grey over that city, and it always seemed to be snowing. He watched as the smog billowed its way away from the condemned city and off to some other poor unsuspecting town.  
>It was quiet between the two. But unlike other silences, the ones they shared were always comfortable. No one felt obliged to speak. Dave obviously had something on his mind, however. He was just wondering how he should bring it up...or if he should. Sometimes pride could mend a Strider's mouth shut. At this very moment he wondered if his brother was having the same problem. John intruded.<p>

"Everything ok?"  
>"...yeah. For now at least." Dave sounded sort of distant and also sounded like he was being deliberately enigmatic. John frowned.<br>"So...you're not planning on saying much other than that?"  
>"...not really."<br>"I wanna help, dude."  
>"...I think we're in trouble."<br>"huh?"

And just at that moment Dave's phone lit up, shortly after John's phone lit up. John scrambled to get to his phone while Dave casually grabbed his and flipped it open. They each read their screens and Dave's eyebrows seemed to frown.

"Looks like Jade is in trouble too." John frowned and stood up.  
>"Ok we're gonna go help her, but you're still gonna tell me why you're in trouble."<br>"Maybe." Dave replied as he made his way back into the house, making avoiding the subject look like a fucking breeze. John gave an agitated sigh as he followed. He was never gonna answer at this rate.


	8. The Taming

There was no sound.

No white noise, no words spoken, no thoughts pacing through the innermost folds of his brain, and for a moment, he could barely hear his heart beating in his chest. His ears rang from the absence, pleading, Dear God there must be something going on here.

He struggled to think. His eyes would barely open, and his muscles felt constricted. He tried to move his fingers, and they were the only success he had. His wrists were slammed and cuffed with some sort of cold metal to a chair, and the same metal was binding his body and his chest back. He could not move.

This revelation alone set panic into his heart, and he forced his eyelids open. His breath came in short gasps, his skin trembling. It was white.

Everything was white.

The walls, the floor, even the window that hung in the wall before him. His chair was ivory, with silver iron cuffs that constricted him at the ribcage, wrists, ankles, and knees. The metal was cold, causing an uncomfortable difference between the heated lamps and the cage where he sat. He could burn easily in this controlled environment.

He tried to focus his eyes, but the lights were too bright, even behind the protective glass of his shades. He grunted with discomfort from the bright, hot white lights that surrounded him. Disorientation sat in, his mind swimming and blood heatedly racing under his skin. He suffered a headache not too long after opening his eyes. He panted, almost angrily as he realized where he was.

He growled in his throat and tossed his head angrily, whipping his sharp black hair as he went. He tried to pull the chair up from its nailed hinges, but it was no use. He was had. The feeling of defeat did not settle well over his features. A slight sheen was starting to work its way to the surface of his skin from struggling. He let out a roar before thrashing in his bonds. Still, no matter how wildly he fought, it was no use.

He stopped a moment to catch his breath, head hanging. He stared at his wrists, that were reddening from his cantankerous skirmish, small red lines had started to form, and his blood trickled gently. He grew frustrated as he remembered his situation, gritting his teeth. He had been here before. Numerous times.

A voice crackled overhead, riddled with static.

"Evening, Mr. Zahhak."

His head jolted to stare at the white window in front of him, his battered teeth bared slightly.

"Oh don't give us that look. You know exactly where you are, and you know exactly what will happen if you don't cooperate."

Equius shifted uncomfortably, and dropped his head backwards, swallowing the slight lump in his throat. He knew all too well what would happen if he fought. He could not risk that loss, not at any cost.

"There we are. Now. Hows about a glass of milk?"

"No thank you."

"Isn't it your favorite? You know you're thirsty from thrashing about like that."

"I'm -not- thirsty. I don't want any of your poisoned garbage." He shot the window a leer from above his shades. "Don't you pretend you know me either. I don't associate with the likes of any of you."

"Hmm hmm. Fine. Since you're so above us, we won't offer you a drink. You know why you're here and what is about to happen to you though."

"I don't deny that."

"Do you desist?"

"...What use would it be?" Even as the fire burned in Equius's blue eyes, the desire to fight and thrash at his captors and run back home as desperate as he could, he knew he couldn't. It broke his spirit deep inside, but he wouldn't let that be obvious. He couldn't let his guard down around this lot.

"There's a good pet. Now just sit still and try not to squirm."

He sat still, as told, and a small needle appeared through the arm of his chair. Propelled by a thin, metal apparatus, it made its way from his wrist to his thigh. As the thin metal injected itself into Equius's flank, a clear liquid forced itself into his bloodstream. He jolted, but it was no real pain to him.

A blue mark appeared on his skin, an arrow with a line intersecting it. The mark of the Sagittarius.

He felt light headed, and his heart immediately thundered in his chest. He felt his skin tighten, and his vision became vivid and clear. Every color on his person was electrified with vibrance, and the blue mark on his thigh remained. His breathing became deep, harsh. He watched as his skin changed hue, from a healthy peach tone to a sickly grey hue.

His head was pounding, the whites of his eyes turning flaxen to contrast with his already deep blue irises. He ground his teeth together, which quickly became the sound of fangs interlocking with each other, his gums and tongue bled a deep royal blue from the intense strength. But the worst pain was yet to come.

The horns.

The pain started from his crown and worked its way to the dome of his skull. It was a sharp, splitting, throbbing pain that made Equius scream desperately into the nothingness. Slowly, two curved horns colored like a hot iron poker forced their way out of his skull and scalp. They were thick, shaped like an arrowhead at each end. The pain was enough to cause Equius to want to fall to his toned knees and cry for hours. He withstood, light charcoal skin sheening with sweat from his intense hatred and the desire to not let a tear slip past his eye. He gritted his gnashing fangs together, muscles pumped full of blue blood and aching to break free. His bonds were too constricting. He had his power.

Effortlessly, and with another blood boiling roar, he broke free from his bonds, shattering the throne on which he sat asunder. He stomped on the empty vial that was used on him, huffing angrily like a crazed animal. He stared into the window, his eyes hollow with vehemence.

Whoever sat behind the window was not amused in the slightest.

"...and yet you desist." the voice crackled over the intercom. "Figures we couldn't trust a barbaric troll to keep his word."

"You'd have it no other way." Equius protested. He glowered, lowering his head. "How else would you experiment on a savage?"

"Indeed." The voice clicked again. It took a moment of silence before answering back. "Why don't we have a bit of sparring practice? See how your lovely troll powers pan out after being dormant since our last visit."

Equius pounded his fists together as his response. No words. Nothing to subtract from the silence other than a mimic of pure power.

Two doors opened. One on each side of the room. Stumbling from the dark corridors each were two orderly lines of drones, each crackling and sparking from the openings of their panels. Their eyes gave off an ominous red glow as they narrowed onto their dark-haired target. Equius's eyes widened and he stepped back. This was impossible. As many times as he had been captured, they never used these drones...no...these drones...

"Aha, we see you recognize them." The voice sparked again, highly amused. "These are the very drones you built in your factory in secret. We know the intent was to destroy us with these very same creations. Now, Equius, do not be simple and say we do not know you." The demented personality gave a chuckle over the intercom. "We know everything about our beloved trolls."

Equius could hear his heart in his ears, true fear settling in. He had lost control. He had lost everything before anything had even begun. His robots, his prized secret creations for his uprising, turned against him. He had built these robots in private, no one had known about them, not even his closest friend. Hopelessness clutched at his newfound power as the drones set in, bending their mechanical joints to strike a fighting pose. Their gazes were empty, ominous, unspoken threats. He shut his eyes closed, the only way he could think to avert their menacing stare.

"Now. Do us a favor, Mr. Zahhak, and see to it that these wretched beings are destroyed."

Equius could not move.

"Do not tempt us. If we knew about your precious robots, do not think we do not know where Nepeta is."

This revelation alone set panic into his heart, and he forced his eyelids open. His breath came in short gasps, his skin trembling. He saw white.

Everything was white.


End file.
